


Half a Man With No Sense of Pride

by hailtherandom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Begging, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Drawing, Frottage, Grinding, Light Bondage, M/M, Pre-Serum, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailtherandom/pseuds/hailtherandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is distracting. Steve just wants to draw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half a Man With No Sense of Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1024004), which everyone in my friends group read and them promptly jerked off to. 
> 
> Posted for Ailish's 18th birthday. Happy birthday, love. Now you're technically old enough to read this. <33
> 
> Title ripped from "Ain't Too Proud To Beg" because I am unoriginal.

“Hold still.”

“Steve, I swear to god–“

“I said _hold still_ , Buck. You’re jostling the table.”

Bucky grinds his back teeth together but lays still, hips canted up as much as possible. He watches Steve out of the corner of his eye and tugs on the belt binding his wrists just once more. Just to be stubborn.

Steve shoots him a disapproving look and flicks the head of Bucky’s cock with one ragged nail. The edge catches and drags the faintest red line that disappears almost immediately, but Bucky still gasps, still tenses, still squirms and tries to roll his hips up, even though Steve’s hand is already gone.

“Behave,” Steve says sternly and Bucky’s body reacts immediately, settling him against the bed and wringing another rush of heat under his belly.

“C’mon, Steve.” It comes out as more of a whine than he intends it, but Bucky has no shame, not so long as it works.

Steve just lifts one finger to his own lips in a shushing motion and sketches the lit edge of a light pole.

“Brooklyn ain’t going anywhere,” Bucky continues. “You look out that window, it’s there every day.”

“So’re you,” Steve says, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Bucky takes a second to grin at the ceiling, then nudges Steve with his knee. “I’m prettier, though.”

“I’m not so sure about that one,” Steve shoots back.

“Surely I’m more interesting than your dumb window,” Bucky presses.

“You certainly seem to think so,” Steve replies. He erases the shadowed corner of a window and starts to redraw it. 

Bucky whines pathetically, on purpose this time. “What’s ‘cross the street that I don’t got?”

“The ability to sit down and not bother me while I’m workin’, maybe.”

“What about those cars?”

“They’re gone soon as they get here,” Steve says wryly. “And I can’t tie them to the bed.”

Bucky frowns a little, then cranes his head to see the edge of Steve’s sketch. “Your angles are off.”

Steve lets out a quiet “for God’s sake” and Bucky smirks.

“I’m just sayin’,” he continues. “And where’s that light even coming from? You lit up the whole building, practically–”

“Turn over.”

Bucky freezes, half-formed words tumbling out of his open mouth. “What?”

“Turn over _now_.” Steve’s got his commanding voice on. Bucky shivers a little.

He tugs on the belt still bound around his wrists. “Can’t.” It’s incredible, how rough his voice has gotten with only five words.

Steve eyes the belt, then glances down to Bucky’s cock. “Don’t know that I trust you not to try to run off.” He looks back up at the belt thoughtfully.

“Aw, Steve, you know I wouldn’t,” Bucky says. Steve doesn’t even glance down at him. It makes Bucky’s stomach clench. “Promise.”

Steve shakes his head a little and turns minutely back toward the window.

“I won’t, Steve,” Bucky says, a little breathlessly. “You know I won’t. Come on, let me turn over for you.”

Steve gets that barely-there smirk again and Bucky bites his tongue as he realizes that, yet again, Steve’s gotten him to ask for something that Steve wanted in the first place. Bucky has no idea how he does it - though the twitch his cock gives is a pretty good indicator - but Steve just licks his lower lip and says, “Well, since you asked so nice.”

He flicks open the belt buckle and Bucky stretches his wrists, rolling them from side to side. Steve frowns at the popping noises as Bucky cracks each of his knuckles in turns. “You’re gonna give yourself arthritis.”

Bucky smiles a little and pops his index finger extra loudly. “S’alright. I don’t need artist hands like yours.”

Steve presses his lips together a little and reaches up, tracing around Bucky’s ear until his hand rests in Bucky’s hair. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“Nah, it’ll be fi–“ And then the fingers in Bucky’s hair tighten and twist so tightly that Bucky’s surprised shout is muffled by the pillow that his face is suddenly jammed into. He turns to the side, just a little bit, and sees Steve’s face out of the very edge of his vision. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Wrists.”

Bucky nods into the pillow and lifts his wrists back up to the headboard. Steve winds the worn leather around them again, following the faint pink lines criss-crossing over Bucky’s skin, and cinches the buckle tight. “You wanna test that?”

Bucky tugs on the belt and hisses as the leather digs into his skin.

Steve casts and appraising eye over Bucky’s body and smacks lightly against the curve of his ass. “Now be quiet.”

He picks up his pencil and settles back into his chair and soon enough, the only sounds in the room are the scratching of graphite against crisp paper. Bucky closes his eyes and feels like the pencil is scratching lines into his brain. 

Steve flips his pencil over to erase something and Bucky takes advantage of the silence to whine softly. “ _Steve_ …”

“What is it, Bucky,” Steve says flatly. Bucky imagines that Steve doesn’t even glance at him.

“It’s boring, sittin’ here watching you draw.”

“You can’t even see me draw,” Steve replies and the scratching starts up again. Bucky grits his teeth.

“Steve…”

“For Christ’s sake, Bucky!” Steve all but throws his pencil down. “What is it that you want?”

Bucky opens his mouth, but he realizes that he doesn’t really have an answer.

“Well?” Steve’s fingers are in his hair again, twisting sharply to the side, and Bucky sucks in a breath through his teeth. Steve stares down at him, unblinkingly, and he somehow looks so much bigger than he usually does. 

Bucky blinks, slightly dazed. “I…”

“You that desperate?” Steve asks roughly and Bucky shivers. He notices suddenly that Steve’s hand is resting on his lower back - although resting might not be the word for it. Steve’s fingertips are digging into his skin, just enough that Bucky can imagine the way his skin pales around the five points of contact. He presses back into the touch without thinking, and then Steve’s fingers become the flat of his hand, shoving Bucky back down onto the bed. Bucky lets out a rush of breath. “You can’t handle me not payin’ attention to you for five minutes?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

Steve sets his sketch pad down on the bed, easily within Bucky’s eyeline. Then he rises to his feet and steps around the bed. Bucky can’t see him anymore, but he can feel the dip of the mattress around his feet as Steve sits down again. “Steve?”

“You wanted my attention, right?” Bucky nods hesitantly. “Well, you have it. Make it worth my time.”

Bucky licks his lips and tries to turn his head enough to see Steve, but Steve has settled himself just out of range. Bucky whines in frustration, then yelps as Steve smacks across his ass again. It doesn’t really _hurt_ , doesn’t even sting - Bucky honestly doesn’t know if Steve has the upper body strength to make him actually hurt, though he wouldn’t be surprised - but the jolt is a message more than anything, and that message drives his hips forward into the bed. 

Steve hums behind him and Bucky freezes. 

“Doesn’t that look fun,” Steve murmurs, more to himself than to Bucky. 

Bucky doesn’t dare say anything.

“Do it again,” Steve says. 

Bucky licks his lips and grinds down into the bed again, rolling his hips as best he can. The drag against his cock is scratchy and dull - definitely not as good as his own hand, let alone Steve’s, but Bucky can feel Steve’s gaze on him, so he wraps his fingers best he can around the top of the headboard and bucks harder into the mattress.

“S’that what you want?” Bucky breathes out, partially muffled by the pillow.

“No,” Steve says. “But it’s what you’re getting.”

“Aw, _Steve_ –“

“No,” Steve cuts him off. “You want something better, you let me draw. You keep whining, you get this.”

Bucky shivers again, biting down on his lower lip, and nods. “Understood.”

Steve chuckles behind him. “You’re such a punk, you know that?” Bucky flushes. “I wonder if anyone else does.”

Half a dozen retorts bubble up in Bucky’s mind, then die away instantly as Steve’s fingers trail along the inside of his thigh.

“Bet they wouldn’t be surprised,” Steve says quietly, so Bucky has to strain a little to hear. “Bet they’d be jealous.”

“Of me?” Bucky asks.

“Of me, more like,” Steve replies. Bucky can almost taste the smile on his face. “Gettin’ you on your knees with just a few words, watchin’ you squirm like that…”

Bucky feels another surge of arousal and jerks against the bed again.

“You like that?” Steve asks. “Like knowing that I like what I see?”

Bucky murmurs his assent.

“Then give me something to like,” Steve says. “Show me you want me to like it.”

Bucky falters for a moment, and then one cool hand is pressing down on his hip again. Bucky takes the hint and grinds down onto the bed again,and then again, spreading his knees a little to get better leverage. He grips the coils of the belt best he can, braces his elbows against the headboard, and ruts forward as hard as he can. 

The bed shakes and Steve probably shakes with it, but his hand is steady resting against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky presses back into the contact a little, so Steve squeezes the muscle and withdraws his hand. It sends a clear message, that _you have to earn it_. Bucky grunts in frustration and drives forward again.

He ruts hard into the mattress as best as the angle will allow him, until his arms are shaking and his skin glistens with a faint sheen of sweat. The burn in his muscles rivals the slow roll of heat curling in his stomach. He’s shaking all over, from exertion and from arousal and from the way his aborted thrusts shake the bed.

Bucky collapses back on the mattress when his arms give out. He pants into the pillow, feeling heat rise up off of his body, and tries to roll to the side. Cool fingers press into his shoulder, shoving him back down.

Bucky whines. “Give me a sec, Steve, ‘m tryin’…”

“I know,” Steve says. “Try harder.”

Bucky’s cock twitches against his blanket - which is uncomfortably damp now, and oh, he regrets a lot of things, because they aren’t due for laundry for another couple of weeks - and he groans. “Please, Steve…”

“Please what?” Steve asks. The hand on Bucky’s shoulder disappears, and then runs lightly over the curve of Bucky’s ass. Bucky shivers.

“Help me?” Bucky asks, more breathless than he would like.

Steve’s hand vanishes again, and then Bucky cries out softly as it comes down across his ass. “I ain’t touching you, Buck. You’re on your own.”

“Then talk? Please, Steve, need you, need something…” Bucky pleads into the pillow. “You gotta give me something.”

Steve hums behind him. “Keep goin’.”

Bucky feels the mattress rise around his feet and sees Steve come around the edge to sit back in his chair. For a terrifying moment, he thinks Steve is going to go back to drawing, but Steve just threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair again. He grabs a fistful and pulls Bucky’s head up, forcing Bucky to meet his eye. “I said keep going.”

Bucky curses and grinds down again, working his hips this time rather than his arms. He lets his gaze trail over Steve’s body and feels himself start to salivate when he sees that Steve isn’t totally unaffected.

“You ever wish I was big enough to overpower you?” Steve asks, almost to himself. “You wish I could hold you down and fuck you like a dame?”

Bucky shakes his head and presses his forehead against his bound wrists. “You don’ need to.”

Steve bites his lip at that, then smiles. “Good boy.”

A moan rips itself out of Bucky’s throat at that and he lets his face fall back onto the pillow. Steve’s hand is on his wrists now, stroking the back of his neck, teasing the tense muscles of his shoulders but never drifting any lower, and it drives Bucky crazy. The rhythm of his hips against the mattress falters, then drives on stronger. 

“Steve, _please_ ,” he breathes out. 

“What d’you want, Buck?” Steve asks. Bucky’s pleased to hear that he’s a little breathless too.

“‘m close,” Bucky whines.

“You lookin’ for permission?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Ask nicely, and I’ll think about it.”

Bucky clenches his fists in frustration. “C’mon, Steve, ‘m so close. Did everything you said, everything you wanted, just need you now, _please_ …”

He breaks off into a high whine when the head of his cock drags just right against the blanket and his entire body goes taut to stave off release.

Steve’s face is flushed, pleasantly pink, and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. “You gonna be good for me after?”

Bucky nods furiously. “Always try to be good f’r you, Steve, anything you want. I can suck you if you let me up, or anything, I swear. Just need you to let me…”

Steve’s hand is in his hair again, pulling back hard. Bucky feels tears prick in his eyes from the sudden pain, so he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Go on,” Steve says. “Like this. I wanna watch.”

Bucky lets out a ragged breath and jerks his hips hard. The blanket drags just perfectly across the sensitive spot under the head of Bucky’s cock, and Bucky nearly doubles over on himself, muscles tensing, rutting against nothing as his orgasm rolls through through him like a slow burn.

He slumps back down on the bed and grimaces as he lands in the wet patch. His hands tingle, but Bucky doesn’t realize that that’s probably not a good thing until Steve is unwinding the belt from his wrists, massaging the deep pink marks.

“Steve,” Bucky mumbles. “Thank you.”

“You earned it, Buck,” Steve says fondly. “Like you said. You did everything I wanted.”

Bucky feels a rush of pride in his chest and curls onto his side once Steve completely frees him. “You want me to deal with…?” He gestures at the tent in Steve’s slacks.

Stave glances down and shakes his head. “Nah, I want to finish this sketch.”

Bucky shrugs and rolls off of the bed to get a clean towel as the scratching of graphite starts up again.

Steve waits until he’s partway out of the room before calling, “You can take care of it later tonight.”

One last spark of pleasure situates itself in Bucky’s chest and he smiles as he runs the corner of the towel under the tap.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is so hilariously different from what I posted last night.


End file.
